Souls
by Punjabchild
Summary: The sequel to Opera Ghost. After years of hiding, Jessalyn Green relunctantly returns to Paris, to help friend in need. Now she will have to protect the staff of the Gariner from not just one ghost, but hundreds...
1. Morning Stroll Done Memory Lane

Souls

A Sequel to Opera Ghost

By Punjabchild

Six years.

It had been six years since she left Paris. Six years since a visit to France to research and study abroad turned into disaster. In all that time, the nightmares hadn't stopped and the shakes and odd feeling that she was being watched hadn't entirely gone away. Even though she had completely removed herself from the world she had come from. She too had gone into hiding.

Jessalyn Greene wiped the sweat from underneath the brim of her hat. She looked around the forest and down at the skinny path. It seemed that many of the park visitors neglected to use this path. It started out wide at the camping areas and continued for half a mile, but as it started into the hills and deeper brush, the trail became narrower. People must have gotten tired and turned back. It was a pity that they did. There was so much to explore and see on this trail; the tall birch trees with white bark and the bushes bursting with berries at this time of year. On each hill on the path, nature had seen fit to carve its only staircase, using the exposed thick roots of the trees nearby. All it took was a sturdy walking stick, some endurance and the narrow trail became an enjoyable hour walk through the woods, one that Jess traveled often on.

After Paris, Jess had returned to school, but quietly withdrew, and transferred to a community college in a nearby city. She only had a few basic courses to finish, since all the requirements for her major had been completed. Now her BFA degree sat on a high dusty shelf in her office, forgotten. She had tried her hardest to keep the truth of what had happened from her family. She had even made a vow of silence with Daniel and Tony, promising they would never mention or speak about the incidents again. But it was different at school, too many concerned friends and professor with prying questions. She had to leave, but no matter if she never spoke of it, or ran away, the memories still followed her.

After finished her degree, she moved to the Midwest and entered the park service to become a state park ranger. She was always faithful to her duties at the station house and on patrol. She even took over the Junior Nature Scouts program, teaching young campers who visited about the animals and plants in the park. Her life here was now so different. She lived in a cabin on the park property. The nearest town had only 300 people living it in. The nearest McDonald's was a half hour away and the nearest metro area was at least two hours drive from the park.

Back at school, she lived in an apartment known for their parties and her roommates would pig out on donuts and fast food into the early morning. She would spend her days off, lying in bed, watching at least 6 hours of TV, and becoming glued to her computer screen.

Out here there was no HBO and internet access was only available in the rangers' office. She rarely watched TV or went out to eat anymore. Instead of getting up at noon on her days off, she went for sunrise walks through the woods and down to a little cove everyday. She hadn't bought a case of eye shadow or nail polish in two years.

She had changed.

If she happened to bump into to Tony, or Dan or any of her friends from school, they probably wouldn't recognize her. She had cut her hair short and tried to dye it brown. But she didn't see the need to care for it now, and hoped the animals were repulsed by her strawberry blond roots. Only one person could probably recognize her despite any disguise or change.

Erik.

Jessalyn took a break and sat down on a boulder on the top of one of the hills. She unbuttoned the top buttons on her tan polyester uniform and reached underneath her undershirt which was starting to become wet with sweat. She would need to change it when she got back. She pulled out the thin gold chain which hung around her neck and the plain gold ring that dangled from it. She hadn't forgotten his ring, and as long as she wore it around her neck, faithfully, she would never forget him. She had taken it to the pawn shop, where the broker informed her it was real gold, and vintage, worth a lot of money. She remembered the earth shattering look of disappointment on his face, when she left his store, deciding not to sell it. She made the necklace, and every day she had told her self, "This is the day I stop wearing this." She never gave in. She never took it off even to swim in, because she didn't swim anymore.

She visited that small cove by the lake on the edge of the woods every morning on her walk. She took off her shoes sometimes and stepped into the water, but refused ever to swim. Not unless it was an emergency. Even being chest-deep in water frightened her and brought back the memories of almost drowning in the lake under the opera house, causing her to panic.

Today she didn't feel like going into the water, even though she had resolved to get her panic attacks about swimming under control. She had done it in training to qualify for this job, why not now? She looked across the water watching two sunrises because of its smooth reflection. A robin whistled nearby and that seemed to give her hope. Yes, she would take a swim today. She had a change of clothes at the station anyway. She moved down toward the water's edge, knelt down in the wet sand to take off her boots.

Then she noticed her own reflection in the water and like clockwork reached up to trace a scar that ran from her left temple, close to her ear and down around her chin. All her scars from the accident had faded but this one. The doctors had said it was a miracle she recovered from so many lacerations to the face, much less have all her facial muscles intact. But she wondered: what if she hadn't been so lucky? What if the shard of mirror had ripped her face and torn her flesh. What if she was left with only the semblance of a face, mutilated beyond repair?

Like her poor Erik's face.

_Would he still love her?_

_Would anyone still love her?_

A sudden breeze passed through the trees along the shores of the cove.

_"Don't go! Stay with me Christine. You'll be safe with me. You can learn to love me and then you won't have to be afraid of anything. Not even death!" he begged._

Her whole body shook. Of all the things he had said to her, that phrase haunted her memory the most. In six years, not a day had passed when she didn't hear that echo in her mind, and it caused her to shudder every time.

She dipped her hand in the lake and splashed at the water. What had he meant by that? Had he intended to keep her with him, whether she was alive or dead? Why not, he wasn't truly alive. Was he so desperate to have Christine with him, even in the afterlife?

Jess started to shake more and her breathing became rapid. She scurried away from the water afraid that any moment the tide would rush in like the ocean, and suck her under. The fear of drowning over whelmed her.

_Death! Death is here!_

She jogged away from the shore back into the wood, forgetting her walking stick. She was crying uncontrollably now and stopped, shouting up at the trees

"At least a life with him wouldn't be as lonely as I am now!" She let out a wailing sob, hoping that only the animals could hear her. She lived alone, she had no friends. If she wasn't working, she would go entire days without talking, not even out loud to herself.

"You fool…" she sniffled in self pity.

She sat in the forest for another hour before she ran back to the station trying to make it in time. She was five minutes late, which was rewarded by a concerned glance from her co-worker, Dean.

"Hey you ok, Jess?" he asked.

"Yeah. Why?" she replied, tossing her hat on her desk.

"You're never late, not even by a second," he noted.

"Well I lose track of time today," she explained, going over the closet and pulling out her uniform.

"Glad to discover you're mortal like the rest of us," he joked.

"_Not even death!"_

Jess shook at the mention of "mortal"

"Well you got some mail in yesterday after you left. I put it in your center drawer," Dean informed her.

"Why did it come so late?" she asked pulling out the drawer

"Because it looks like it wasn't US mail." She shot him a disapproving glance. "Hey, I wasn't look at your mail on purpose! It's just something I noticed."

"Whatever." She pulled out the envelope that was only the size of a card and noticed the return address.

Paris, France

Her hand stiffened. Dean was already out the door, not wasting anymore time before starting work. She slowly reached her in pocket for her knife, ripping the thin paper. She unfolded the simple black card, no design or greeting and read what was inside, fear running through her.

Mademoiselle,

You know that I would never go to this length to try and contact you unless it was an emergency.

I am in desperate need of you help.

Regards -L.D.


	2. Little Troublemakers

Souls

A Sequel to Opera Ghost

By Punjabchild

Chapter Two: Little Troublemakers

Lucas Delauney was a cursed man.

He knew that soon after he advertised for a partner to help manage the opera house after the recent "tragedy" as the paper still called it. He wanted some one with business skills. Like him. Unlike other previous manager, Lucas had no formal training and theater and he believed his firm business background and skill with numbers had caused him to keep the historic building well-kept and operating. Another man would probably bankrupt it. He was strict and shrewd, and he knew it. He had wanted a partner who would to the same and help bring the Garnier back to its former glory.

Instead he attracted every lunatic in Paris for the job. Each came with fantastical ideas to generate more business. One wanted to convert old dressing rooms into hotel suites and charge visitors top dollar to stay the night there. Another suggested guided "ghost" tours into the cellars, which was extremely dangerous. All of them seemed intent on turning the historic palace of music into a cheap haunted house attraction.

After almost two years, he finally gave up his search and decided to restore the opera house and run it solo. Even while he was in the hospital he had gone to the board of trustees who gave him immediate emergency funds to clean up the old cellars. Crews had started to paint, lay new brick and flush out the water within days, while Delauney contracted a skilled engineer who thought of an ingenious way to contain the water from seeping back into the cellars, without turning the earth underneath that section of the city into an unstable underground swamp.

Of course, the public rejected it all. The press managed to sneak in daily to take pictures of the "top secret" project, and the papers accused him of destroying "both history and heritage" and countless letters poured in from all over the world raising their voices in disproval.

However, Lucas Delauney had nothing to worry about. The management, artistic director, board of trustees, and head of staff all approved his decision and supported him completely. They all knew what he was doing would protect and benefit them all in the end.

Then something happened. It started two years ago. A custodian had noticed water in the fifth cellar, its white walls had been bone dry since the project was completed. He first thought it was rain when he reported it, but Lucas knew better, since it had been one of the driest summers Paris had had in over 50 years when it happened. He went down and saw it for himself. There was water, so murky and thick with dirt it almost appeared black and it was also rising from underneath, seeping through the white stones.

Now the water level had reached up to a person's knees. His engineer was baffled and there were no drastic changes of the water systems under Paris at all.

There was no way he could hide everything, forever.

If only the damp cellar were his only problem.

He had been swamped for the past six months. His employees had been quitting left and right. First it was new employees, custodians and security personnel. They all claimed it was nothing personal or about wages or treatment. Most of them said it was "too creepy" at night and this came from grown men! However, other employees who had been with the opera for years resigned, and Lucas suspected it wasn't just for retirement purposes. Even volunteers began to dwindle in number. His volunteer staff of ushers became so small that he actually disbanded the group and had to start paying new temporary workers.

He was now understaffed and overworked, with no partner to help with the burden. Every week he received a call from the Culture Trust director, asking him why they were cutting back on productions and encouraging him to do more shows, tours and ballets. His desk was flooded with suggestions from board members and citizens alike, begging for more performances and more operas. How could he fill the auditorium when he had no ushers wanting to help lead patrons to their seats? Lucas had successfully found a new head of security for the building. He was young but he ran a tight shift and made due with the small staff he had. Also incident reports had been down since in the last four months since he had been hired.

This opera house truly had a curse on it.

But that wasn't all.

In the past few weeks he had noticed a group of young students, from London wandering around the opera. Taking guided tours almost everyday and always getting caught wandering off into restricted areas. They remained Lucas of Daniel Payne and his friends when they first came to the opera six years ago. Except for one difference, they students were cocky, even going so far as bragging to patrons of their true intentions. They were "paranormal investigators."

His security guards had escorted the leader of their group out of the building several times, but one of the four would manage to sneak back in with a larger group of tourists. He knew what they were after and it was the last thing he wanted.

His staff was seeing spooks and now these kids were intent on chasing phantoms. There were days that Lucas came into work, convinced he was too old for this job and ready to resign right there and then. But he also realized he was the only one who knew all these secrets, or at least he hoped he was the only one. He felt it was his duty to protect this company from bankruptcy, water damage, ghosts and even meddlers.

And to think his father wanted him to be a tailor.

Lucas closed the blinds on his huge office windows, transforming the glaring sunlight into an inviting glow inside the room. He had a meeting at 10am with the president of the board of trustees, inspections at noon and finally a break for lunch with his head of security.

The phone on his desk gave a shrill ring. He sighed and finally picked up the receiver on the third ring.

"Lucas Delauney?" a clipped voice on the other end asked.

"Yes, this is…" he stared.

"Will you accept the charges for an international call from Miss…."

Now it was his turn to interrupt "Where is it coming from?" he demanded annoyed.

"United States. Illinois to be exact."

Who did he know in Illinois? He had no contacts in Chicago.

"I'm sorry, who's calling?" he asked

"Miss J. Greene from Illinois. Will you accept the charges?"

"Of course," he replied. He never thought she would actually contact him. Of all of them, he thought she'd be the last one to help him.

The phone was full of static for a while then silence. After a few seconds, a familiar voiced asked softly, "Hello, is this Lucas Delauney?"

"This is. What time is it there?"

"You don't want to know…" she sighed softy. He was speechless for a few moments and so was she….

"Jessalyn, I'd thought you never call…."

"Neither did I."

She seemed so distant. Her voice was cold and clipped. What had the past six years done to her?

"I'm glad you did," he offered.

There was a pause. "So I am, now that I think about it."

He hoped she was smiling.


	3. The Good Life

Chapter Three: The Good Life

Carrington Haswell reached over to the nightstand and fumbled for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. A female hand reached around his chest and groped towards the nightstand, gesturing for him to turn on the lamp.

"Oh don't ruin it." He mumbled, pushing the hand aside. He pulled out a smoke from the pack and lit up, the soft ember casting a slight glow over the bed. He reached over to look longingly at his girlfriend Celine. She was smart and sexy, and fabulous in bed. They had just finished making love and were enjoying each others warmth in the early morning hours.

"Hey, you aren't supposed to smoke in here, baby," she corrected him.

"Screw that. Don't I pay this hotel enough?" he shot back, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Come on, baby. Don't get any of that shit on the sheets," she whined.

"Fine." He turned over in bed, and pulled on his boxer shorts. He walked away from the bed and towards the balcony window. She could be such a pest sometimes. With his cigarette in his left hand he reached up the other arm and stretched it towards the ceiling.

Life was good. He was only 25 and on the merge of having a hit TV show coming out. He had used his money for college and bought equipment and licenses. His team had started doing investigations in buildings around London, showing their tapes to studios. Their show, "The Extreme Paranormal," had gotten great reviews in its first run. After that they traveled all over the United Kingdom, castles in Scotland and grand chateaus in the countryside of Wales. Each one of them was rumored to be haunted, and they milked each one for what it was worth. After the money started to come in, they created more special effects and used even more elaborate camera tricks to make their show more suspenseful. He had discovered Celine, a very convincing "psychic" and the camera loved her, and he did too. The profits grew larger as they all lined their pockets. He was making more in a year than the cost of a full four-year education at a university, so he considered his investment well spent.

But he had been seeking a way to break out and finally go international. His agent suggested on filming a special on an infamously haunted building. There was the Tower of London, or even the castle Ellsinore in Denmark, but Carrington had a different idea in mind.

By chance he had stumbled on some information on the internet of an American student who had been granted a tour of the Paris Opera House with the intent of proving the story of the Phantom of the Opera to be true. This Mr. Payne had plans to publish his findings; however that never happened. Some clever snooping and string-pulling on his end had landed him a copy of the manuscript that actually had been floating around the university he had attended.

Frankly he found the details of the work very boring, but the general idea intriguing and fascinating. What better way to get ratings than hosting a special about one of the sappiest love-ghost stories ever? People would eat it up.

However, Payne's manuscript seemed to avoid any details about his trip to Paris. The incomplete piece dropped off after the entry about going into the cellars. Nevertheless, the author was still alive and well. Perhaps it was a gimmick; there couldn't have been anything too terrible down there.

A pair of slender hands snaked around his waist and up onto his chest, which was still moist with sweat. Celine's small kisses on his neck soon followed. He smiled knowing that she couldn't resist him. He turned around and pulled her into his embrace. She laughed as his hands wringed though her long black hair.

"Come back to bed, Cary," she cooed then gave a playful growl. She was wearing a sheet around her slender frame, which he soon freed her of. Carrington could feel him self harden and was ready for another romp underneath the covers. He eased her back onto the bed, before pinning her on the edge. She smiled and closed her eyes in delight. She was so submissive. _Such a simple girl_, he thought, before covering her month with his.

Yes, this indeed was the life.

* * *

Jessalyn could hear the women next to her start to snore. They were still over the Atlantic and Jess hadn't got a chance to sleep since they took off seven hours ago. She had tried listening to the music provided by the airline, but by this part of the flight, the songs had switched from American to French, so she could barely understand them. She had switched to some soft classical music on another channel to help her relax, but it only made her more anxious about going back to the opera.

Delaunney had been very vague when he explained his situation. She had gotten the facts that there were employees complaining of ghosts and leaving. Then the cellars which had been cleaned and drained were now flooding and a TV crew was trying to film a show about the Opera Ghost without permission to be on the grounds. Jess wondered what, if anything, she could do to help. Scare the crew away? Convinced the staff that there were no ghosts at the opera?

Ghosts or not, the opera was still a dangerous place, especially for her. Why did Delaunney ask her help and why had she been so foolish to accept his invitation? Perhaps she wanted a break from her hum drum routine, or she wanted another chance to visit glorious Paris once more. How many middle class twenty-somethings got a chance to visit Paris? Or maybe, she wanted to be in the place that contained her most horrible and precious memories.

When she had told Daniel she loved him and when she realized too late that she loved Erik instead?

She glanced around the cabin at all the other sleeping passengers. _Lucky them_. She stood up and grabbed her carry-on bag from the top compartments. She had before she left made many unusual purchases, at least for her. She saw them as she rummaged through her bag. She had went out and bought some hair dye to get back her natural shade of blond. Jess had picked up a curling iron, make-up and hair products she hadn't used in years. She couldn't run around Paris like she had just crawled out of the woods from her morning shift back home. She also didn't want Delauney or anyone else at the opera that might remember her, see that she had fallen apart these past six years.

The rustling echoed loudly through out the silent cabin until Jessalyn found want she was looking for. She had taken a stack of the day's mails and shoved it in her bag before catching the cab to the airport that morning. _Some mindless bill reading should put me to sleep._

She noticed, among the few envelopes a small package addressed to her. Curiously she opened it, trying to remember if she had ordered something over the internet recently. It was the shape of the small nature reference books she had back at the station. She turned it upside down and shook the contents onto her lap.

It was something small, wrapped in brown paper. However there was an envelope with her name written on it. This was certainly not a mail order. She hurried opened it and read the letter inside.

_Jessalyn,_

_It's Dan. I hope the past years have been good to you. I would have gotten in contact with you sooner, but after graduation you seemed to just disappear, I figured you didn't want to be bother by me anymore._

_I can never express in any amount of words how sorry I am. I still can't forgive myself for what happen to you and the rest of us at the Opera. I know that you will tell me to stop blaming myself, but I'm still convinced the whole thing was my fault. You and Tony stood by me through it all, and I ignored you. I treated you especially cruel and rudely. If only I had been more careful and alert, none of this would have happened._

_Of course perhaps if I hadn't been so lucky there, I would have left empty handed and we could all have gone on with our normal lives. I received a letter from Mr. Delauney a while ago, asking for my help. When I contacted him to tell him my service would be useless to him, I also learned he had also contacted you and that surprisingly you agreed to come. It was through him I learned you address and your new profession._

_I wanted to give you my journal. It seems only fair since you bought it for me all those years ago. Perhaps it will serve you better. It useless to me now, since I've lost hope of having my pet project published. I also enclosed another one for you. Perhaps you might find something interesting worthy of writing about someday._

_Please know that I'm sending you this not because I want to forget you or to forget what happened to us in Paris. Not all the memories of the opera are unpleasant. I always think of you, and even though we have to keep our story secret, we will "always have Paris."_

_Yours, Daniel_

Jess couldn't believe what she had just read so she read it again. Her heart skipped a beat with delight. He remembered her and thought of her. All these years she had been so afraid to contact him, thinking he would be angry at her and what she had let happen. She was also afraid to open up old wounds and did not want to face the awkwardness between them. She had only told him that she had loved him for years, risked her live to help him escape and then never called him again.

Now Dan was taking complete blame for what happened. She could never blame him and it wasn't as if he could have predicted what would happen in Paris. Who could?

She felt enthralled as her fingers ripped apart the brown paper. She leafed through Daniels' plain leather journal, full of notes. Then she noticed the other journal. This one was bigger, with brown and black embossed trim. It was kept closed by a magnetic flap and when she opened it the noticed the title page. Dan had even written her name in it so that it read, _This Journal belongs to Jessalyn Greene._

_Daniel still thought about her. He still cared about her._

Jess retrieved the box from the floor to find the return address. She was full of excitement now wanting to know where Dan lived now, and what he had been up to since they left school.

She found it.

_Daniel and Lisa Payne_, read the first line.

Her heart sank.

The address of a house in New York followed on the small label, and a flower decorated one corner in the usual fashion, but the first line glared at her.

_Daniel and Lisa Payne._

Daniel was married. He had gotten married.

Jessalyn was glad everyone was asleep in the cabin, so no one could see her look of embarrassment and disgrace.

* * *

A/N: _ouch..._oh yeah I went there 


	4. Paris

Souls  
By Punjabchild

Chapter Four: Paris

* * *

Someone pushed Jessalyn's shoulder to wake her up, and not very gently.

She opened her eyes to be greeted first by the harsh lights of the cabin and then the morning sun glowing through the windows. She turned to see who had woken her and it was the passenger seated on her right, the one who had snored all night. Jess really wasn't sure what to say to her, but the women was grinning.

"You were talking in your sleep." She stated rudely. "So, who's Erik?"

Jess glared at her coldly. "No one," she mumbled.

"Really? Better not let 'Daniel' find out him, huh?" she shot back. Jess answered her remark by standing up and moving out into the aisle swiftly, letting the woman grab her bags and leave, before sitting back down. In fact she waited until everyone got off the plane, before gathering her things and leaving.

She shuffled off the plane and into the concourse, almost dragging her feet. She didn't want to remember how it felt the first time she had landed in Paris. The laughter shared getting off the plane and the excitement on the taxi ride to the Opera, she tried to forget it all. She wasn't even sure if anyone was coming to meet her. She doubted it and started looking for the sign indicating were taxi service was. She sighed, berating herself for not polishing up on her French before she had come.

"Excuse me, miss," a calm voice behind her said as a finger tapped her shoulder.

Jess turned around and discovered she had to look up to see who it was. Behind her stood a tall man, at least 6' 2" with dark hair and a gentle face. He was dressed rather handsomely, with a gray-green hoodie underneath a sport coat, with dark jeans and boots. He looked at her puzzled and Jess realized she had said anything to acknowledge him.

"Mademoiselle Greene, I presume?" he spoke English, but it was very clear with barely any sort of accent. He lifted up a small sign he held in his right hand her to see, which read "Jessalyn Greene". She nodded.

" I was waiting at the front of the gate, but you didn't seem to match the description Delauney gave me. Well I mean you mostly do, except…" he explained trying not to stammer. Then he laughed. "I thought that I had the wrong plane."

Jess managed a smile. "Nope, it was the right one." She lifted her fingers to her hair. "I cut my hair a while ago, so I'm not a blonde bombshell any more," she joked. "Besides, I'm pretty tired so I was basically a zombie when I walked off. I should have seen you Mr…"

"Oh, Alain Scarret," he said, introducing himself. "I'm head of security at the Opera nowadays. Delauney sent me down here to pick you up." He shook her hand, and Jess was confused as to why someone of importance would be sent on such a trivial errand.

"Come I have a car waiting."

* * *

The car ran smoothly along the winding roads of Paris, and Alain handled it like a pro. Jess's attention wasn't on the building and landmarks that flew by outside her window, but on him as his hands moved fluidly on the stick shift and the steering wheel.

"So, I'm assuming you're French, but you barely have any accent when you speak, Mr. Scarret," she said.

He looked at her a flashed a charming grin without speaking.

"Forgive me. It's just… I was curious," she clarified

"You don't seem to miss anything. The truth is I am French, but I actually spent most of my life in Chicago. I was born near Rouen and then I moved to the States…" he stopped. "I'm sorry, I answered your question already and now I'm going to start rambling."

"No that's all right. Continue, please."

"Well I moved to the States when I was five, when my dad relocated. After school I joined the Marines. I was thinking about going to college, but my parents had retired and wanted to move back to France."

They approached a tight turn, which Alain breezed right through. He made it a point to glance at her while he spoke, but still kept his eyes on the road. "I went to the Middle East and I was stationed in Italy and then in Germany for a couple years. But I never got to go back to France. So on a whim I decided to move back to France with my folks. Well, not moving in with them. They bought a house in Normandy and I moved back to work in Paris."

"So what landed you this job?" Jess asked.

"My military experience. I was top in my class and I don't mean to brag but I was offered a position to study as a sniper." Jess was honestly impressed. "But I really wasn't too keen on being a warrior, well a killer really. I know that sounds stupid. Why join the Marines if you don't want to go to war?"

"I don't think so," Jess said agreeing. They took a sharp right that Alain handled with ease, turning onto a crowded street. They slowed down, waiting on the backed up traffic. "Serving in the armed forces is to serve the ideals of justice," she finished.

"Exactly right." Alain said before leaning his head out the window to see down the street. "Lunch hour." He grumbled, seeing the obvious back up. "We've had a cooler summer than usual this year. That means it's going to be freezing come autumn. I hope you packed appropriately."

"I believe so." She informed him. "So do you enjoy your work?"

"I do. It's a good job. It's really an honor to work at such a historical place, and it's been fairly easy too. I mean I haven't had many problems or complications…until recently." He voiced dropped at the end of his sentence, losing its charming tone for a moment.

"So, do you know much about opera then?" Jessalyn asked trying to quickly changed the subject.

"Nothing beyond what I've seen in the Marx Brothers' movies," he replied. Jess allowed herself a genuine laugh. "How about yourself?"

"I was a voice minor in school, and I preferred performing opera to the other material they offered," she said.

"The other material being…?"

"Disney songs," she commented cynically. Now it was Alain turn to laugh. "Well it's the truth."

"Well, then I can't say that I blame you." They finally managed to break free of the traffic jam. They turned down the Rue Scribe, running alongside the Opera, before reaching the Rue Auber, which led to the Place de l'Opera. Alain pulled into the load zone in front of the main entrance. After putting the car in park, he rushed out of his side and around the vehicle to open her door. "Here we are."

Jess slipped out of the car and starred up at the opera house. She'd never thought in a million years that she would be so close to this place again. There were hardly any clouds out, so the building soaked up every ray of sunshine, causing it to shine and glisten. This was supposed to be a golden palace of beautiful music and art, illuminating the square. Jess looked up and around the many windows and sighed.

It was nothing more than a gilded prison.

And with that thought, Jessalyn felt herself shudder.

"Are you coming?" Alain asked her. Jess nodded and then made her way quickly up the stairs. They made their way through the corridors. The windows allowed the sunlight to reflect sharply against the marble floors. Jess grimaced and blocked the light away form her eyes with her hands. Alain did the same thing. "Think they could afford some blinds, huh?" he joked.

They finally made their way to the main office and Alain knocked on the door. A soft "Come in." sounded from inside. Alain pushed them open and they both walked into Delauney's office.

Lucas Delauney was hunched over his desk, looking puzzled over a stack of papers. His large cherry wood desk was now the only one in the large office, pushed back into a corner instead of sitting in the center.

"Sir, our American guest has arrived," Alain announced, causing Delauney to look up form his work. He saw Jess standing outside the door and gave a warm smile.

"Mademosille Greene. It's nice to see you again," he said gently.

"And that would be my cue," Alain stated turning to Jess. "I was going to drop off your luggage at your hotel. It's only two blocks from the Opera, but should you need a ride, please don't hesitate to call," he offered.

"Thank you for all your help Mr. Scarret," she said.

Alain had both hands on the large handles moving backward into the hall. "Please…it's Alain," he corrected her. "Good day." And with that he closed the door.

Jess turned and took a seat on the other side of Delauney's desk. He pushed his papers aside, folded his hand together and rested them on his desktop. Jess studied him for a moment. He had more wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth and especially his eyes. His dark hair was not as she remembered it, and had now turned to salt and pepper shades. His gray green eyes didn't examine her so harshly now, like she had been accustomed too.

"So how have you been?" he asked.

"Tired and lonely, to be honest," she replied. "I hope you've been better off than me."

He sighed. "That would be nice, but no. I appreciate the thought, though."

"Lucas, what do you want with me?" Jess asked bluntly. "How do you think I could possibly help you now?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. But I didn't force you to come here either," he retorted, sensing her anger and frustration. "Look, I'm sorry that we didn't part on good terms. I was selfish to insult you at the hospital that day, when you were still so venerable. I just didn't know," he apologized. "But something tells me now that you can help me find out what's wrong here. I don't know why I have this intuition, but this time I'm not afraid to be wrong. Maybe it's just a hunch really."

"Well I'm not sure how to feel about your explanation. A hunch? You're being rather cryptic, if you ask me." Jess could feel his remorse and desperation. It must have been very confusing and serious situation for a rational man like Delauney to trust just a hunch or feeling.

"Well to be honest when I was here before, I didn't totally trust you either. I thought from the way you liked to lurk about that you were out to sabotage Dan and the rest of us. I didn't trust you at all. It was only later that I realized…" she instinctively brought her hand to her neck rubbing it, remembering when she was attacked here in this office. "That Bernard Ambler was the one really out to get me."

Jess shifted in her chair. "It's been years and I'm still not sure why I did everything back then or what led me to say certain things. Why did I go chasing after phantoms in dark corridors I didn't know?" She sighed. "I mean, where was my common sense, huh?" She felt the need to get up. She walked over to the window and put her hands down on the frame.

"And that night at the masquerade, you knew that Erik was there. I saw his request that he sent to you both in this office. You did nothing. You could have stopped it, and when I was trying to leave to get some air. I asked you, and you suggested that I go to the roof. Why? Why did you say that?" Her confusion quickly turned to rage. "Did you know what was going to happen?"

"No. I didn't."

Jess leaned back into her chair and sighed. "All these years have turned me into a rambling idiot," she muttered out loud. Then she straightened up, glanced out the window and then back at Delauney. "I don't know what it is I can do for you here, sir, but whatever it is, I'll do my best."

Delauney acknowledged her with a slow nod, then reached down to one of his desk drawers, withdrawing a gray lockbox. He carefully rolled the metal numbers to their correct position and opened it. He removed a single key attached to a black lanyard and laid it on the desk. He went to put the box back and picked something else out of the drawer.

Jess now saw the key-ring on the table joined by a small black flip phone, which Delauney deliberately pushed in her direction.

"These are yours now. You can do whatever you like with them, including leaving them on this table," he said. "If you need anything, call me. You are one of only three people who has a copy of this master key."

"Who are the others?" she asked

"Myself and M. Scarret. These are for your protection, Jessalyn, and perhaps your curiosity if anything should interest you."

Jess grabbed the key and held it tight in her hand, still wishing she could just hop back on the next flight out of France and leave Delauney to deal with his own problems.

"I'll think about it," she said, gathering her new belongings. "But I want to go down in the cellars and have a look for myself. Then I'll make up my mind." She started to walk towards the door.

"Then how about tomorrow Mlle. Greene," he suggested.

"The sooner, the better," Jessalyn muttered and she made her way out the door.


End file.
